


Not a Marvel Comics Event

by Amuly



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Civil War, Civil War (Marvel), Domestic, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 11:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5965141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Straight-faced satire of the whole 616 Civil War event, because I'm sick of getting angry thinking about how fucking dumb it is. Told from the point of view of Jack Monroe and Dennis Dunphy (who, sure, are both alive and retired superheroes at the time of Civil War in this alternate canon of mine).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Marvel Comics Event

Jack watched the ruling on CSPAN as he did his crossword puzzle. SHRA passed. Okay then. Jack tapped his pencil on the newspaper. What the hell was a “movie trilogy, Corleone”? Ah, shit, it was probably one of those movies that came out when he was on ice. Dennis might know.

Later that evening, the door to the apartment opened and shut while Jack was spread-eagle on the couch, half-asleep as Entertainment Tonight played in the background. They were weighing in on the SHRA, something about Janet van Dyne enterprises stock soaring in the wake of the vote. Or crashing. One or the other.

“Honey, I'm home!”

Dennis Dunphy stomped into the apartment, his usual cheerful attitude infecting everything around him. Jack lifted himself a little, just enough to smile at him from the couch. “Hey.”

“Hey!” Dennis swooped down and kissed Jack soundly before heading off to the kitchen. “I've got a surprise for you this weekend,” he announced as the fridge opened and shut. Jack pushed himself fully upright, shaking off the last remnants of his nap.

“Is it a surprise if you're telling me about it?”

“I'm going to spill the beans before the weekend anyway,” Dennis said, reasonably. He made his way back to the couch, bag of chips and glass of water in hand. He settled into the space Jack had freed up with a smile. “What’re we watching?”

Jack shrugged and tossed him the remote. “Whatever you want.”

“Oh, good: _King of the Hill_ reruns are on,” Dennis commented, flipping over the station.

Not five minutes after they had relaxed against each other on the couch, the apartment door opened again, but this time with a wild _crack!_ , nearly bouncing off its hinges. Jack and Dennis’ heads spun around, only to see Steve racing through the living room and to his bedroom.

“Hey Steve,” Jack called out. Not a minute later Steve reappeared, bug-out bag in hand. He raced over to the couch and squeezed Jack and Dennis’ shoulders in turn.

“Have you heard? Did you hear what Tony did? What he let happen?”

Dennis frowned and shook his head, but Jack nodded. “Sure, SHRA passed. Saw it earlier today.”

“Oh, right, they said it would,” Dennis commented mildly.

“I have to go,” Steve panted. “I have to fight this.” He raced out of the living room.

Steve's hand was on the door, but he stopped and turned back. Jack peered around Dennis’ shoulder and over the back of the couch at Steve. “Are you coming with me?”

Jack hesitated. Glanced at Dennis, who had turned his head from the TV to meet Jack’s eyes. Dennis shrugged, then winced.

“Do… you really need us there?” Jack asked. He gestured between himself and Dennis. “Of course we’re with you, Steve. We love you, and you've saved our asses more times than we can count. But with my… 'medical condition', you know, and Dennis…”

“I haven't gone out heroing since that one dust up with le Fey like, five years ago,” Dennis pointed out. “I'm sure the spandex still fits, though. If you need me?”

Steve's eyes flickered between the two of them. His frantic, angry expression softened slowly into something more reasonable, more like Steve himself than this demagogue he needed to be. He smiled tightly at them. “No, no. Of course not. I have Sam and Bucky-”

Jack grunted and slouched down on the couch, eyes barely peering above the back of it. Steve smiled tightly at him.

“-and Luke and… Well, there's a lot of guys with me. You're right: you two should hold down the fort. Pay my rent for me, will you?”

Dennis waved at Steve before turning back to the TV, remote in hand. “Of course, good buddy. Drop in anytime. I got the extended edition Lord of the Rings DVDs, figured we’d have a marathon this weekend. You're welcome to it!”

Jack grinned and glanced at Dennis. “Oh, really?”

Dennis grinned back. “Yeah. Told you I wouldn't keep it secret. But: _twelve hours_ of Tolkein.”

Jack squirmed in delight. “Oh, hell. Can we start it tonight?”

“I'll make the popcorn.”

Jack leaned forward and grabbed for the phone on the coffee table. “Hey, what about dinner? Chinese?”

From the doorway, Steve waved one last, half-hearted time. “Uh, well. I'll see you guys later. When this is all taken care of.”

Jack waved over his shoulder. “We’ll be here,” Jack promised him.

“And we’re here for you!” Dennis added from the kitchen. The popcorn in the microwave started popping loudly. “Just ask!”

Steve nodded, small frown between his eyebrows where they were drawn together. “Right. Okay. Bye.”

As the popcorn continued to pop, Dennis made his way across Steve's apartment to the living room couch. He draped his arms over Jack’s shoulders, drawing him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Are you getting spring rolls?” Dennis asked as he rested his head on jack’s shoulder.

Jack held the phone to his opposite ear and nodded. “Yeah. Four?”

“Four’s good. And get two of the loaded fried rice? I want it for leftovers.”

Jack nodded as the delivery place picked up on the other end. “Yeah, I'd like to place an order? Delivery? Jack. Sure, it's-”

Dennis pressed a kiss to his head and released him before heading back to collect their popcorn from the microwave.

* * *

It was a Thursday night when Steve's door fell in, right off the hinges. Jack and Dennis jumped up from the couch, stun discs and fists at the ready. The sound of repulsor blasters belatedly registered with Jack as Iron Man himself stomped into the apartment. Jack snorted and dropped himself back down on his couch, tucking his discs away. Dennis stayed squatting up on the couch, but it was just so he could wave at Tony and stick his hand out.

“Hey, Tony! How’re things?”

“Hope business is good because you're paying for that door,” Jack told him without turning around.

There wasn't the usual clack of metal Jack associated with Tony's face mask retracting before his unmodulated voice called out: “Where's Captain America?”

Jack glanced back to see Tony's armor slowly melting away, absorbed into his… skin? Weird. Must be some new tech: he was always modifying those suits of his, every time Jack saw him it was something new. Not that Jack saw him especially often, but.

“He didn't tell us. We’re just house-sitting,” Dennis explained, good humor undampened. Jack pointedly picked up the remote and raised the TV volume:

“ _When a plot against the Emperor failed… the plotters were always given a chance to let their families keep their fortunes. Right?”_

“ _Yeah, but only the rich guys, Tom. The little guys got knocked off and all their estates went to the Emperors. Unless they went home and killed themselves, then nothing happened. And the families… the families were taken care of.”_

“You have to know where he is. I can arrest you two right now-”

Jack snorted. “For what? Sitting on our asses and watching movies?”

Dennis glanced back at the TV and patted Jack’s leg. “Oh, pause this, this is important foreshadowing. You can't miss it.”

Tony stomped into the two bedrooms in the apartment, flipping on lights and ducking into closets and under beds. Dennis and Jack sat on the couch and watched him. After a minute of this Jack sighed and stood up, heading for the kitchen. “You want something to eat, Tony? We got bagels and schmears.”

“Shut up, not-Bucky,” Tony growled as he stormed out of Steve's bedroom. He stood in the middle of the living room, foot tapping. Jack stuck his tongue out at him and went back to getting himself a bagel. He didn't get along with Tony all the time—mostly because he just didn't get the guy, head a thousand years in the future while Jack’s was still stuck in nineteen fifty, most days. But Jack had ended up with a residual fondness for him, mainly picked up from how much affection Steve held for him. Most days.

“Steve hasn't been here since the law was passed,” Dennis told Tony, gently. Like he was breaking bad news to a kid. “Not that we’d tell you if we knew where he was, but. It's the truth.”

Jack munched on his bagel as he watched Tony fiddling with his suit: taking some sort of science readings, maybe? To try and find Steve. “Dennis just introduced me to _The Godfather_ so we’re marathoning that,” he told Tony, mostly to break the tension.

“Including three?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmf.” Tony sniffed, still peering around the apartment like Steve would jump out of the shadows any minute. “Three sucks.”

Dennis rolled his eyes. “You still have to watch it. At least once.”

“Whatever.” Tony poked at his suit one more time before sighing loudly. “Fine. I guess it's clear. But we’re watching this place. Steve steps one foot in here-”

Jack snorted. “Bug this shack up to our eyeballs: see if we care. All you're going to get is a lot of videos of Dennis and I defiling every surface of Steve's apartment while we've got the place to ourselves.”

Tony's nose wrinkled up and he started to back to the door. Well: the door hole. “Come on, guys. I didn't need to hear that.”

Jack shrugged. “That's what you're going to hear if you're watching this place. Just giving you a preview.”

“You can sit down with us for a while if you'd like,” Dennis offered. “If you want to try and wait around for Steve. He won't come by, but if you wanted proof.”

“Maybe some other time,” Tony promised sardonically.

Dennis grinned at Tony, ignoring his sarcasm. “After this we’re watching _Friends_! I have the complete box set! And Jack kind of missed most of the nineties thanks to being frozen. Again.”

Jack grinned and gave Tony a thumbs up. “Even-numbered decades seem to be working out for me. I've got a bunker ready for when the twenty-teens roll around.”

Tony shook his head as his suit bled over him again. “You two call yourselves heroes,” he grumbled, voice modulator coming on over the last word.

“Not anymore,” Jack pointed out. “That's sort of the point.”

Tony hesitated just inside the doorway, expression impossible to read through all that metal. Finally his modulated voice said: “I'll send by some guys about the door tomorrow morning. Sorry.”

Dennis smiled over at Jack after Tony left. “I always liked him.”

“You like everyone.”

“No... well, okay. But I really do like Tony.”

“Yeah yeah: millionaires gotta stick together, right?” Jack teased as he returned to the couch. He nudged Dennis with his shoulder, hands full of bagel and OJ. “Okay: rewind it a little bit. I want to make sure I didn't miss anything.”

* * *

The apartment shook as blasts rocketed past their windows, followed shortly by the whine of jet boots and thrusters. Jack grumbled and shifted in bed, trying to find a more comfortable reading position. Alongside of him, Dennis snored loudly.

Another blast, another rattle and shake. Jack glanced over his reading glasses at the ceiling, checking for any cracks. This old building wouldn't survive a direct hit. Hopefully all the super-powered assholes would keep things away from the civilians. They were all heroes, weren't they? That's what they were supposed to do.

An explosion, right outside their window. Jack swore and started to get out of bed when his lamp went out. He waited a second, listening in the dark. His clock was still on, but it had a battery back-up. He couldn't hear the fridge. Fuck.

A blast, a whine, a shudder. Then a massive, thunderous _clap_! Someone hitting Mach 1. Maybe that Mach 5 dork. Jack set his book on his nightstand and made his way carefully out of the bedroom. One glance at the various electronics in the living room told him all he needed to know: power was out for the apartment. Probably for the whole building. Well, fuck.

Suddenly the entire building rocked, a thunderous wave of sound punching right through Jack. He grabbed the bedroom doorframe, holding himself up as photos fell off the wall and glasses spilled from the cabinets. Shit, shit, shit-

“Jack!”

“I'm okay! Stay there!”

Dennis was at his side in a moment, warm from their bed at Jack's back. “What the hell?”

“Super zeroes having it out,” Jack grunted from gritted teeth.

“Wait... is the power out?”

“Just went.”

More blasts around their building, but the main battle sounded farther away. Maybe they were finally moving on. Jack took a cautious step outside the doorframe, squinting around Steve's apartment in the light from the city.

“People are going to be scared,” Jack observed.

He felt Dennis leave his side, walking back through their bedroom. After a moment he hollered: “Water's out, too!”

“Shit.”

Doors started slamming through the apartment, voices raised out in the halls. He could hear a baby crying. Jack rubbed his hands over his face. Shit, shit.

Snapping to action, Jack grabbed his t-shirt from the day before lying on the ground and tugged it over his head. He slipped into his boots and grabbed a flashlight from his nightstand drawer. He flicked it on, nodding when it worked. Turning around Jack found Dennis in the dark, waiting for him.

“People are going to need batteries and water.”

Dennis nodded and hurried to the linen closet. He started unpacking their emergency supplies: something like two dozen cases of bottled water and a box full of batteries. Jack reached above him and grabbed his toolbox from the top shelf.

“Meet you on the other side,” Jack promised with a sarcastic little smirk.

Dennis reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him in for a kiss. “You bet your boots, mister.”

Jack snorted and started for their front door, Dennis lugging four water pallets on his shoulders and the box of batteries. Jack grabbed a flashlight for him from the living room and stuck it between Dennis' neck and shoulder, where he could hold it in place.

“Hopefully it won't take too long, just some fuses in the basement,” Jack told Dennis as he opened the door. “Tomorrow I'll head out first thing and see if I can't scrounge up a back-up generator and install that.” They parted ways in the hallway, Dennis already flanked by several families asking him what was going on, what they should do. Jack gripped his toolbox and flashlight more tightly as he jogged down the fourteen flights of stairs to the basement.

* * *

Dennis hacked away at the great hunk of concrete, sledgehammer expertly wielded in his big, strong hands. Jack chewed on a stick of gum as he watched Dennis work, biceps flexing obscenely undershirt, back muscles rippling under his freckled skin. A flick directly to his ear was the only thing that dragged his attention away from the sight.

“Oi, Monroe! Stop being such a fairy, come on. Old lady Rothberg needs some help.”

Jack snorted and shoved at Mikey, the punk-ass Italian kid who lived with his three sisters and their parents a few doors down from Steve's apartment. Mikey was a good guy: he didn't really care about him and Dennis. Just found it funny, since neither of them exactly fit the stereotype. Mikey wasn't the most worldly guy in the building, but he took care of his family. And always had an extra plate of lasagna for Jack and Dennis.

“What, you have some ‘fairy’ work for me?” Jack shot back.

Mikey laughed and wagged his finger at Jack. “Ahh, nah, look over there: your boyfriend’s got all that covered, don't he?”

Jack raised his eyebrows as he chanced another glance over at Dennis. He was still working up a sweat breaking apart that hunk of concrete that had landed directly on top of their building’s rooftop garden.

“That's 'fairy' work?” Jack asked, jerking a thumb over at Dennis.

“What: you always telling me to be more opened minded, right? Not stereotypical?” Mikey pronounced each syllable of that last word with particular care. Jack snorted again. Mikey punched him right in the arm for that. “See! This is me being all cosmopolitan and such. Yous two are fairies, ip-so fact-so, whatever yous are fairy work. Like busting up a actual ton of concrete.”

“Two tons!” Dennis hollered over at them. He winked at Mikey as he took a breath, sledgehammer resting on the ground. “I can _lift_ one.”

Mikey laughed and waved a hand at Dennis. “Aw, shut up, you mook! You're a lying son of a gun.”

Jack met Dennis’ eyes and they shared a quick smile before Dennis shook his head at Mikey and laughed. “Anytime you want to come over here and help…” he offered before bringing the sledgehammer back down on the concrete.

Mikey snorted and grabbed Jack’s arm, leading him across the rooftop. “Yeah right. I'm not stupid, I read that _Tom Sawyer_ in school. Alright, here you go. Mrs. Rothberg! I got help!”

Jack sighed as he dug through Mrs. Rothberg’s tomatoes—roasted tomatoes, after a blast of repulsor beam hit them head-on. “I'm sorry, ma’am: I don't think any of them made it.”

Mrs. Rothberg sighed, leaning heavily against the rooftop wall as she rested her aching feet. Jack continued to pull up the tomatoes, checking the root system on every one in the hopes that everything wasn't burnt to a crisp. He smiled comfortingly up at her.

“Dennis can pick you up some new seeds tomorrow. And I can mulch these up for you and use them as fertilizer?” he offered. Dennis was really the one for cheery optimism in the face of a never-ending tidal wave of bullshit, but Jack could fake it when he had to. Sometimes.

Mrs. Rothberg just shook her head. With some effort she pushed herself off the wall and tottered over to Jack to press a wizened hand to his shoulder.

“Don't you boys go putting yourself out for my sake. My grandson comes by on Saturday: I'll ring him up to bring me some from the store then. It'll be good to get him in the sun, away from all that game boxes and whatnot.”

Jack grinned up at her, expression a little more genuine this time. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” Dennis’ sledgehammer blows continued in a steady rhythm, background noise as Jack turned his attention to salvaging the next plot of herbs. It wasn't exactly how he and Dennis had been planning on spending their Saturday, but what were you going to do? Jack glanced up from the soil just in time to see Dennis stripping off his soaked-through undershirt and wiping it across his face and neck. Jack went kind of totally still, transfixed by the sight.

When Dennis caught him looking he laughed and waved, before blowing Jack a kiss from across the rooftop. Jack shook his head and went back to gardening. Well: at least they'd get to have some sweaty shower sex after this.

Steve's poor shower had probably never gotten to see so much action before they moved in.

* * *

When the door to Steve's apartment burst open, Jack didn't even dive for his stun discs. He just looked up from the couch and watched as Steve swept into the place, fedora and trench coat pulled tight over himself.

“I'm not here!” Steve announced to the room at large.

“Okay,” Jack replied, and turned back to the TV.

“You need anything?” Dennis asked, because Dennis had to be helpful.

“No! You didn't speak to me, you didn't see me!” Steve headed straight for his bedroom. A few minutes later he emerged, one hand tucked firm in his pocket. Jack shrugged. He got what he came for, apparently.

“Want some pizza? We've been using your account for delivery this whole time, so we kind of owe you.”

Steve glanced at the pizza madly, like it was a trap. Jack shook his head. It'd been a long time since Steve went all Nomad against his government. Clearly life on the road wasn't agreeing with him, this time around.

“No, I… My account?”

Dennis swallowed his piece and nodded. “Yeah. They shut it last week, though. Guess the government finally got around to freezing your assets. We’re, uh… We kind of moved in, by the way. Since we can't use your checks to pay your rent anymore.”

Steve shook his head, eyes glimmering. “It's Stark. It's all him. He's doing this to try and… try and smoke me out!”

Jack shrugged. “Okay. I mean, you're a felon and a fugitive: generally those sorts of people get their assets frozen. No matter who their best fri-”

Steve's glower was a physical sensation. Jack held his hands up.

“- _ex_ best friends are.”

“He's not my friend. A friend wouldn't do this to me. Sam and Bucky…”

Jack rolled his eyes and turned around on the couch, returning to their Star Wars marathon (machete order).

Dennis’ fingers brushed against Jack’s arm in silent reassurance. It helped, but internally Jack still fumed over Steve and his obsessive attachment to this new Bucky. Er, original Bucky. Whatever.

“We ordered more than we needed. Why not take a pie back to the guys,” Dennis offered.

Steve shook his head. “I need to go. I can't… I can't carry a pizza with me…”

Dennis shrugged. “Might be less conspicuous that way. You, uh: you realize the whole trench coat thing never really worked, right?” Dennis nodded significantly at the trench coat and fedora ensemble Steve was sporting. Jack muffled his laughter in his hand.

“Thank you, Dennis,” Steve said tersely. “Don't tell anyone I was here. And if Stark stops by again…” Steve's fingers grabbed the door, wood cracking under his grip. Jack frowned at it: great, something else for him and Dennis to fix up this weekend. “You sock him right in the jaw for me, got it?”

Jack laughed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah. Remember how I've got that medical exemption from socking people anyway? What with the blood transfer and my disease and all? Do you _really_ want me to give your ‘ex’ best buddy HIV?”

Steve looked stricken by the thought. It shocked him into releasing the door, wood groaning in relief. “No, no. Jack! How… Of _course_ not-”

Jack snorted and glanced at Dennis. “It's almost like they _don't_ want to kill each other over this stupid law.”

“Imagine that?” Dennis mused. He raised his hand at Steve. “Oh, and with my augmented strength, you probably don't want me socking any humans in the jaw, either. Not unless Tony's all armored-up or something.”

“Well then just...”

Steve hesitated, emotions running over his face to wage war on each other. Jack watched the display with a raised eyebrow. Dennis was smiling encouragingly at Steve.

“Just tell him to go to hell,” Steve finally grumbled, though it lacked heat.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Jack bit out. “And we'll tell him that message is straight from Steve Rogers, who came back to his apartment-”

“Alright, alright,” Steve interrupted him. “I see your point.” Steve hesitated one more time, one foot out the door, one foot in. The two men on the couch waited patiently.

“Stay safe.”

Then Steve was gone in a whirl of trench coat and fedora. Jack sighed and settled back on the couch with Dennis, letting his head drop to Dennis' shoulder.

“Will do, buddy,” Jack grumbled. “Will do.”

* * *

“I know he was here!”

Tony was hysterical, tearing through the apartment. Jack sighed and peered at Tony over his reading glasses, stack of bills tapping impatiently in his hands. “Well this is his apartment,” Jack pointed out.

“I'm arresting you for aiding an abetting a fugitive!” Tony shouted, throwing a finger in Jack's face. Jack looked at it.

“Are you going to arrest yourself for the same thing?”

“What?”

Jack quirked an eyebrow at Tony. “Well, he's been around you enough times, and you haven't brought him in.”

Tony spluttered. “I've been _trying_ -”

“Tony. I'm an almost forty year old ex-super with HIV. Dennis is the same age with the very exciting superhuman ability of being pretty strong. Do you _really_ think the pair of us could have taken down Steve Rogers if we _tried_?”

Tony shook his head, faster and faster until he let out a scream of frustration and stomped away. Stomped straight into Steve's bedroom, actually. Jack tutted as he peered down at the bills again. After a moment he tossed them onto the kitchen counter along with his reading glasses. Nothing was due until next week.

“Hey, Dennis! I'm going to make some popcorn and pop in that next episode!”

“Wait for me, wait for me!” Dennis rushed out of their bedroom with his clunky laptop computer and settled onto the couch. “It's the season premier! You can't start without me!”

Jack snorted and walked over to press a kiss to Dennis' mop of red hair. “Wasn't planning on it.”

Tony wandered out of Steve's bedroom sometime later, when the _Friends_ theme song started playing on the TV. He looked like he'd been crying, but Jack didn't mention it. Dennis smiled up at Tony and scooted closer to Jack on the couch.

“Have a seat, Tony. You look dead on your feet. I can make more popcorn?”

Tony didn't reply. His shoulders were hunched, his face wan. He looked like he'd lost ten pounds since Jack saw him last. Poor idiot.

_When it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your yeeeaarr:_

_I'll be there for yoooou, when the rain starts to pour_

_I'll be there for yoooou, like I've been there before-_

A strangled noise escaped Tony's throat and he turned away, hurrying out of the apartment. Jack sighed as the door shut—surprisingly softly—behind him.

“How the hell do you think this is going to end?” he asked Dennis.

Dennis sighed and wrapped his arm around Jack's shoulders, pulled him close. Jack slumped against him, relaxing into the warm strength of Dennis' body.

“I don't know. But, well: it doesn't really matter to us, does it?”

“Not much at all,” Jack agreed.  
  



End file.
